a tendency to move around the sphere,
overhauls once inner sadness.
one has planted the seeds of laughter,
on a graveyard overgrown by reeds.
now observing them despair as
flames emerging from a sweet wine glass.
sipping on it, like a hungry child,
finding its way out of this social experiment.
indulging guilt, now as i stand,
on the velvet lace of passed times.
finally they told me to inhale wrongs,
exhaling passion for others to feed on.
no being with a heart still beating,
not i, nor you, nor the sphere itself,
should give oneself up to vagari of others.
exhale only for what melts its heart,
as a chocolate with honey melts into one's taste.
Nov 9, 2020
Nov 9, 2020 at 2:11 PM UTC
you cracked me wide open,
your name is the name of the wind.
carrying the distant memories,
i wish i could unseen.
as the passing time,
my words shall not rhyme,
but yet i keep you within.
nor i expect of you to meet my words,
to hear my shouts and i shout loud!
... as i am standing in the eye,
of a raging hurricane.
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 4:59 PM UTC
placed a heart inside a box,
box, sealed with a zillion locks.
then she went down on one knee,
with eyes closed she couldn’t see.
on her shoulder laid a sword,
she recalled the ghost of fjord,
for her journey to begin,
need she open din within.
placed a feather on that knee,
dropped her bones into a scree,
cold air breeze stayed far behind,
as her soul with stars aligned.
her heart remained inside a box,
someone took of all the locks,
on a sword he dropped a tear,
filled his hunger with a fear.
no one else but ghost of fjords, welcomed her amongst the wards.
feather fell on blood sprayed scree,
begins the journey with the sea.
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 7:13 PM UTC
Billy’s voice,
Billy’s touch,
Billy’s midnight slumber.
(he’s a reflection of what i want)
Billy’s smile,
Billy’s lips
and guess who’s got his number.
Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 7:50 AM UTC
Marie, took some fresh baked goods,
set her sail through blood-curdling woods,
in search of a one who hearts can alter.
her heart broke a man,
and so with sedan,
she seeked the one who’d scrap her falter.
to prevail over cold,
she took some gold,
to pay the one who hearts can alter.
she traveled sad,
but reached a nomad,
who claimed “i’m the one who hearts can alter.”
he was a fraud,
very sharp-clawed,
he stole her gold and then he paltered.
took his leave,
with a thieve,
after saying “Marie, your heart is altered.”
“Oh, Marie naive,
do you still grieve?”
the nomad was actually a salter,
see in this ground,
there’s not around,
a single soul that hearts can alter.
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
dear Susie,
i’m really sorry but i have to go.
it’s not you— oh, but it actually is.
for i loved you in the field of poppies,
all up to the moment you tasted the grey dust of a city air.
-oh, but it actually is you.
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
this is a darling,
to a note for self.
this marching against reflections,
might echo through the windows.
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 6:13 AM UTC
on the edge of an apron,
border above,
hands bleed out the natron,
of thee, flies a dove.
a candlelight’s beam,
a trapdoor below,
the words to one seem,
for other to know.
soft natron in voice,
the labyrinth backstage,
out heart peaks a choice,
trapped in a black cage.
hearts bleed out to tears,
such glory they’ve seen,
eyes brighten of flares,
thee treasure, so keen.
a bow of the taking,
brown feathers as prop,
out wings lads were aiding,
necks tied with a strop.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 2:57 PM UTC
very archaic, petrified,
hiding in the dark of night.
in the alleys made of stone,
wrapped in coat, her mother sewn.
threw a glance at a shadow cold,
a man with a lighter, looking bold.
arching under thousands stars,
she watched people walk on by.
he stepped forward,
took her grip,
made her enter in his Jeep.
driven her back to his house,
introduced him to his spouse.
she laid in bed, with pink sheets paired,
in a room she and her brother shared.
she had no reason to be scared,
her family had really cared.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
the clouds are at war,
with weapons of fear.
billowing with hate,
daunting everyone near.
the clouds were at war,
making schemes in the sky.
what's left of them now,
cries drops that stay dry.
Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC